Life and Death
by Fingersnaps
Summary: Written for Enthusiastic Fish as part of a fiction exchange on NFA, she wanted a character study with Tim and Ducky, her prompt was: As soon as a man is born, he begins to die. Contains spoilers for Season 12.


22

 **Life and Death**

The line for security clearance had moved turgidly and as he tutted impatiently Ducky could only hope it would mean a shorter wait in the baggage claim area. He finally got through and heaved a sigh as he strode forward to collect his suitcase; judging by the people staring at empty conveyer belts he had been overly optimistic. With a shrug of his shoulders he took out his phone and selected the first name on his call list. "Jethro; I'm afraid I may be a little while longer, there seems to be some delay with the luggage."

"Not a problem Duck, I have coffee, I can wait."

"Thank you, I hope to see you very soon." He made his way toward the carousel designated for the Heathrow flight and joined the throng staring into space or using their cell phones as they endured another delay.

It had been an emotional week, and Ducky was grateful for a few more minutes of solitude before meeting up with Gibbs and accepting his kind offer of a ride back to DC. He'd taken the first flight to London as soon as he heard Maggie was in the hospital; a massive stroke they said, she wasn't expected to recover, and if he wanted to say goodbye…he'd never forgive himself if she died before he held her hand one last time.

When he saw her in the hospital his first panicked reaction was that he'd arrived too late; she looked so pale, her lips almost blue and he couldn't discern a single movement. He hurried to her bedside and grasped her hand, a sigh of relief passing his lips as he felt the weak pulse at her wrist, he wasn't too late.

He sat beside her, talked about old times, missed opportunities…She opened her eyes only once and she smiled, the smile that took him right back to carefree, youthful days and made him grateful he'd dropped everything and travelled three thousand miles to be with her. He held her hand until she breathed her last and another thread in the tapestry of his life was cut.

A sudden surge of activity from the people around him pulled Ducky out of his reverie, at last the baggage carousel was moving. His suitcase was one of the first to appear, he grabbed it and hurried out to the arrivals area. Gibbs was waiting, a cup of coffee in his hand, a brief smile indicating he'd seen his friend.

"Jethro! I am so sorry about the delay…" Ducky's apology got no further, he'd seen that look on Gibbs' face too often; his heart beat faster in his chest. "Please tell me it's not Jimmy or his family."

"No…they're good." Gibbs was quick to reassure him. "It's Tim, he's in the hospital."

"How bad?"

"Head injury, the docs were worried about the swelling, there was talk of an induced coma…took him forty-two hours to regain consciousness." It was hard to put into words the elation they'd felt when Tim squeezed Delilah's hand and opened his eyes.

"Wait! Two days…he's been in the hospital for two days and you didn't think to call me."

"It's been three days Duck…listen, Jimmy wanted to call, it was me who said no. You just lost someone close, I thought you should be able to say your goodbyes without having this hanging over you. Tim had plenty of people looking out for him."

"Well now he has one more. What happened Jethro?"

"Let's get out of here, I'll tell you in the car."

Gibbs took his friend's suitcase and Ducky tried to process what he'd been told. The walk to the parking lot took an age, at least it seemed so to Ducky and as soon as Gibbs started the engine he asked again. "Jethro, what happened?"

"Our case hadn't been going well, too many dead ends, not enough leads…until Tim dug deep and found where they were likely storing the weapons. We went out there, two teams, inside the warehouse…they didn't give in easy…there were explosives." Ducky held his breath and waited. "We were almost done, Baldwin must have triggered a booby trap, Tim was blown off his feet, hit his head, hard…got some shrapnel in his arms."

"Agent Baldwin?"

"He didn't make it."

"Oh heavens, he has two youngsters if I remember correctly."

"Yeah, two boys. Telling his wife…it was a tough call for Leon to make."

"I can imagine…and Timothy, he's on the mend?"

"He…he's doing better, the doc says the…intracranial pressure is normalising, the shrapnel…mostly superficial wounds, nothing to cause permanent damage."

"When do you get to the but?"

"We've known each other way too long. Tim…since he woke up, he's been closed off, we can't reach him Duck. I'm hoping, we all are…maybe he'll talk to you."

"If you think I can help I'm at your disposal."

"Never known you be anything but helpful…hey Duck, the flight, you must be tired, we don't have to go to the hospital today if you want to rest."

"Nonsense; one of the advantages of being fortunate enough to fly Business Class is having a comfortable place to sleep. I'm perfectly rested, if you're amenable, I'd like to visit right away."

For the remainder of the drive from Dulles to Washington General Ducky listened intently as Gibbs filled in the detail of what had taken place in the three days since the raid. He heard of the anxious hours sent waiting for Tim to open his eyes, of the arrests and charges relating to those behind the weapons dealing, of the pain endured by NCIS agents on the loss of one of their own.

"I will conduct Agent Baldwin's autopsy first thing tomorrow."

"No need, Jimmy's already done it. He didn't want Baldwin's family to wait any longer than they had to for the b…for them to make funeral arrangements."

"Jimmy must have hated that, so soon after Agent Dorneget, working on someone else he knew…"

"It was tough, we could all see it; you'd have been proud Duck, he really stepped up to the plate."

Ducky stared out of the window as the featureless landscape gave way to the DC suburbs. "I am proud Jethro, Jimmy has come a long way, professionally and personally. I just wish he'd been spared…oh Lord…"

"Duck?"

"It just occurred to me, had things turned out differently, it could have been…had it been Timothy and Jimmy had to…"

"Don't, we've already been down that road, Jim…he had help, the team helped him at work; he has Breena and Victoria to go home to…can't think of a better cure for the blues."

Ducky nodded and some of the tension lifted from his shoulders; given what he had to deal with on a regular basis, Jimmy's family was a gift for which Ducky gave thanks daily. Having faced violent death all day, going home to a loving wife and daughter…"Balm for the soul."

"Amen to that Duck."

NCIS NCIS

"This is most kind Jeetan. Thank you so much."

"It is my pleasure. Donald; Special Agent McGee will be in good hands when he wakes up. If you need to contact me, the nurse's station has my pager number."

"I hope it won't be necessary, good night." Ducky shook Dr Patel's hand and with a smile for the on-duty nurse, he turned toward Tim's room. It had been a stroke of luck that Tim's doctor was a member of Ducky's golf club. They'd met socially several times and a promise from Ducky to partner him in the next fourball tournament had been enough for Jeetan Patel to turn a blind eye to a violation of hospital visiting protocol.

They had arrived at the hospital just ten minutes before visiting was due to end, and Ducky wasn't prepared to deprive Abby and Tony of precious time with their friend. On checking in at reception and discovering Dr Patel's name as lead physician on Tim's case Ducky had felt a sense of relief, knowing Tim was in good hands, and also anticipating a sympathetic ear regarding an extended visit. So, after offering a comforting hug to Abby and a reassuring smile to Tony, he'd waved them on their way. He'd half expected Gibbs to stay, but a brief glance into Tim's room seemed to be enough for him, and he was on his way. "He's not likely to talk if I'm around, see if you can get through to him Duck."

"I'll do my best."

"Can't ask for more. Call me when you're done and I'll give you a ride home."

"I can call a cab Jethro, you should get some rest, you all look exhausted."

"I'll rest when Tim's doing better, you call me, I'll be waiting."

Ducky had agreed; when Gibbs was in this mood, any argument was a waste of time, Dr Patel had arrived just as he was about to go into Tim's room, but Ducky was happy to delay his visit so that he could get a full update on Tim's progress.

Now that his conversation with Jeetan Patel was over Ducky took a deep breath and stepped into Tim's room. He knew what to expect, as a doctor he knew, as a friend…"Oh Timothy." Ducky admonished himself for speaking aloud, though in truth it was little more than a whisper. He'd promised Jeetan he wouldn't wake Tim, would sit quietly and wait until he woke naturally; the doctor had warned him Tim was usually exhausted after an hour of visitors and might sleep the night through. It didn't matter to Ducky, he hadn't lied to Gibbs when he said he'd slept on the plane, he felt refreshed and ready to watch as long as was necessary.

He stood for a moment or two, ensuring the readings on the monitor were acceptable before taking time to look closely at Tim. His first reaction had been one of shock; he had been expecting bruises and cuts, so the dressings and lurid purple and yellow stains on his arms and face were no surprise, what had caused his whispered exclamation was the pinched, pained look on Tim's face, the dark shadows under his eyes, the restless twitching of his fingers…his eyes were closed, he most likely was sleeping but he certainly wasn't resting easy.

Ducky had been watching for a little over an hour when Tim became increasingly restless and agitated. "Steady Timothy, try to sleep." Ducky's soothing tone seemed to work, for a few minutes at least; Tim stilled and his breathing became regular and deep. Ducky patted Tim's hand lightly and settled back in the chair.

"Doctor Mallard…Doctor." Ducky awoke with a start as the nurse's whisper filtered through to his consciousness. "I have to check Agent McGee's readings. Dr Patel said you might like a cup of tea, vending machine quality I'm afraid."

"You are most kind nurse…Holding." Ducky read her name tag and took the proffered cup. A quick glance at his watch told him he'd only been napping for about twenty minutes, he was annoyed he hadn't managed to stay awake, how was he supposed to help if he was dozing? He took a sip of tea as Nurse Holding went about her duties. "He's doing well Doctor, another day and he should be going home."

"Good news indeed, thank you nurse."

Tim hadn't stirred while the nurse was noting readings from the monitor, but as the door closed behind her his eyelids fluttered open, he stared at the door, a puzzled expression clouding his face, then he seemed to become aware there was another person in the room. He blinked a few times, trying to focus. "D…Ducky, you're in London…I mean, you're here, but…the funeral, Gibbs said you were staying…"

"I did Timothy, you were unconscious for two days, do you remember?"

"Sometimes I forget why I'm here, and then…never mind, I'll be out of here soon." He turned to Ducky with a brief smile. "How was it Ducky, did you get to see Mrs Clarke before…?"

"Mercifully I was in time, I was able to have some time with Maggie, to say goodbye."

"That's good, I mean, not good that she died, but…"

"I understand; yes, it meant a great deal to me that I was able to be there." He pulled the chair a little closer to the bed. "Enough about me, you're the one who has been in the wars, how are you?"

"Me…? I'm good, why wouldn't I be? I'm always okay, other people…" Tim stared toward the window, determined to avoid eye contact as long as possible. Since he'd first opened his eyes and focussed on the anxious faces around his bed Tim had been trying to deal with the waves of guilt sweeping over him. He blinked away hot tears, flinching when he felt a hand on his wrist. "How many?"

The whisper was so quiet Ducky wasn't sure Tim had spoken. "Timothy, did you say something?"

Tim turned to face Ducky. "How many have to die before it's done?"

This was not the time to tell him there was no end; Ducky had performed too many autopsies on people he cared for to have any illusions on that score. "Oh my dear boy, I wish I could give you an answer. We do what we can, sometimes it's enough…"

"And when it's not? People die Ducky, people get hurt real bad."

"You're on the mend now."

"I'm not talking about me!" Tim reached for the beaker of water on his night stand, his hand shaking. "It's never me…I always walk away." The beaker fell from his hand and hit the floor, water spilling all over. "Damn it, I can't even…"

"It's a little water Timothy, a few paper towels and it will be gone." Ducky hurried into the bathroom and grabbed some paper towels from the dispenser, when he got back Tim was trying to get out of bed.

"I should clean up, it's my mess."

"Stay exactly where you are. You're here for a reason Timothy."

It didn't take long for Ducky to mop up the water, he kept an eye on Tim, making sure he did as he was told. He looked more agitated and his pulse rate had increased, small wonder Gibbs and the others were worried, such an extreme reaction to a minor mishap indicated a much deeper problem, one that wasn't going to be resolved in a single conversation. Ducky threw the soaked paper towels in the trash and took his seat again. "See, no harm done, all cleaned up."

"Thanks…I'm…guess I'm clumsier than usual right now."

"To be expected, you'll feel better when you're out of here; hospitals are good for the cure, but the recovery…"

"Not so much."

"Indeed; all the hustle and bustle, one doesn't get much opportunity to relax."

"When I'm home, I'll be fine."

"We'll see, Dr Patel would prefer you not be alone and I have more than enough room for a visitor. I would like you to stay with me for a few days, until we're sure the concussion has left no lingering problems."

Tim raised his eyebrows. "I guess Gibbs told you about Delilah."

"He did. My understanding is, she's been called in to work…'secret squirrel stuff' as I believe Jethro called it."

"He would." Tim smiled a little sadly. He was proud of Delilah, but since her promotion there had been several occasions when she'd been called into the DoD at short notice, and he never knew how long she'd be away. Under normal circumstances he coped with her absences, grateful at least that she was in DC rather than Dubai; his current circumstances being far from normal he would have preferred to have her home, and not merely for the selfish reason there'd be someone home with him. He wanted to be out of the hospital, yet if he was honest he was nervous about being alone in the apartment.

"What do you say, would you be prepared to stay with a fusty old medical examiner?"

"You're just about the least 'fusty' person I know. If you're serious I…I'd be grateful to have some company."

"Excellent! Now, I promised your doctor I wouldn't tire you out, we'll have plenty of time to chat when you're discharged." Ducky got up and leaned closer to Tim. "You have been through an ordeal Timothy and I don't want you to underestimate the impact it has had. Your friends and loved ones are relieved and happy to have you safe, remember that; do try to get some sleep, I'll see you tomorrow, good night."

"'Night Ducky."

NCIS NCIS

"Come along Tony. We'll leave you to get settled in Timothy, when you're ready I'll be in the sitting room." Ducky hurried Tony downstairs, he didn't want to appear ungrateful but he did want to take the earliest possible opportunity to have a conversation with Tim.

Tim sat on the bed, more tired than he would admit out loud. It had been a hectic day, more scans, tests, follow-up appointments to arrange and forms to sign before he was finally released from the hospital. Tony drove him to his apartment to pick up all the things he'd need for his stay with Ducky. By the time Tony had put his bag on the bed in Ducky's guest room Tim was ready for a few moments alone. He almost collapsed onto the bed and lay still for a few minutes, concentrating on controlling his breathing, trying to release some of the tensions of the day. It was so quiet, calm, he was sure he'd be able to relax here, but in order to do that he knew he'd have to sit down and talk with his host, it was what Ducky wanted and it was the least he deserved.

Tim quickly unpacked his belongings, admiring the quality of the furnishings and decoration. He made his way downstairs and joined Ducky in the bright and welcoming sitting room. "You have a beautiful home Ducky."

"It took me a little while to feel I belong here, but eventually it all came together and now it fits like a glove." He guided Tim to the window seat. "I thought we might have our drinks here; we can enjoy the last of the afternoon sun."

"Sounds good." Tim sat down and accepted a cup from Ducky. "Thanks. You don't have to wait on me, I want to do my share."

"And you will, but not today."

Tim sipped his coffee and glanced at the pictures arranged on the mantel, a black and white portrait of a stunning young woman having pride of place. "Is that Mrs Mallard? Wow!"

Ducky nodded and smiled warmly. "Indeed; she turned heads wherever we went."

"You must miss her."

"Every day, but you know, every day I remember her with a smile. She lived a long and full life, not everyone is so lucky, as you well know."

Ducky saw the shutters come down immediately and gave himself a mental head slap; too much, too soon, if he wasn't careful Tim would retreat into his shell. Time to attempt a recovery. "Your father, he was not as fortunate as Mother."

Tim looked down at the floor, almost a year on, the pain of losing his dad was raw enough to surprise him with fresh tears every now and then. "We didn't always…things had been strained between us for a long time, I think we were starting to understand each other better." He picked up his cup and took a drink. "At least, right at the end we were able to say some of the things we'd kept inside…we wasted so much time being angry with each other."

"Try to focus on the reconciliation rather than the estrangement, regrets can eat you up if you let them."

"He was a hard man to love, but he was my dad; he helped to make me who I am today." Tim laughed without a hint of humour. "Guess that's why I keep things inside, it's what he did…Your friend…Mrs Clarke…"

"Maggie, what about her?"

"Do you have regrets, ever wish you'd stayed and married her?"

"Goodness, what a question." Ducky glanced at the latest addition to his mantel picture gallery, a candid shot Ellie had taken of him with Maggie in London, he took a moment to study it, giving himself time to think. "I suspect we all wonder occasionally about the path not taken. Had I stayed with Maggie, my life would have been so very different, but who is to say we would have been happy together? There are no certainties in life Timothy."

"Death and taxes?"

"Ah yes…those apart, we muddle through, hoping the decisions we make are…I was going to say correct, but who are we to know what is right or wrong?"

Tim didn't answer, he took another drink and looked outside, appreciating a window with a view; Ducky didn't want the silence to last too long. "Had I made different choices, I would never have known all of you, and I wouldn't have been able to spend so much time with Mother…I wish you could have known her in her younger days. She was like a firework, glittering and exploding in the sky, leaving the rest of us trailing in her wake. Then her mind…such a precious gift, and it was taken from her, so much of what made her who she was, lost forever."

"Can't imagine what that must have been like."

"At times it was almost unbearable; she still looked like my dear mother yet most of the time she didn't even recognise me."

"Most of the time?"

Ducky smiled and set down his teacup. "There were times, brief interludes when she was almost her old self again. I held on to those…oh gracious. Listen to me, rambling on, not giving you an opportunity to speak."

"It's okay." Tim shrugged. "I didn't really have anything to say, and I like listening to you."

"I will take that as a compliment."

"It's meant as one." He looked again at the photographs. "Losing people…does it get any easier?"

Ducky sighed. "I wish I could say yes. Losing a parent is a special kind of loss, a link to our past like no other."

"It's weird Ducky, I mean we went years without talking to each other, but I miss him." Tim smiled sadly as Ducky patted his shoulder.

"Each loss leaves its own mark, those we love…they take a little piece of our hearts with them…" Ducky took a deep breath and hoped he wasn't about to make a massive misjudgement, he thought, hoped there was a subtle change in Tim's demeanour. "The other losses, our friends, colleagues, they can cut just as deep." He felt Tim flinch but he didn't pull away.

"It…it should have been me…do you know how many times that thought has gone through my head? So many…too many who should have lived. Why Ducky, why them and not me?"

"A question to which there is no answer; life is fragile, split-second decisions put us in harm's way, or keeps you safe…The job you do, all of you, makes you likely to face danger more often than most; in keeping our servicemen and women safe, protecting their families, you can become targets."

"Then how come they keep missing me and killing…so, so many." Tim's shoulders slumped and his hands started to shake. Ducky was immediately in full doctor mode. "What kind of a host am I? You've had nothing to eat since we left the hospital, and I don't recall you ate much there."

"Don't really have much of an appetite Ducky."

"I understand, but I won't have you going to bed hungry. I'll warm up some soup. Why don't you help me out in the kitchen?"

Tim was only too happy to help, anything to keep busy, to stop the thoughts crowding in on him. He picked up the empty cups and followed Ducky.

Twenty minutes later they were sitting at the dining table, a piping hot bowl of Ducky's favourite celery and Stilton soup in front of them. "Help yourself to bread." Ducky poured two glasses of sparkling water. "I apologise for the lack of wine, but so close to your concussion…"

"I'm good Ducky; please have some."

"A day without alcohol won't do me any harm. Let's eat, this soup can be an acquired taste, I hope you like it."

Tim would have eaten it even if he didn't like it, just to keep Ducky happy, but as he took his first taste, then his second…"This is really good Ducky."

"You're not just being polite?"

"Well, I always try to be polite. I also like being honest, it's good."

They continued in companionable silence until the bowls were empty and one solitary bread roll remained in the basket. Tim smiled a little sheepishly. "Guess I was hungrier than I thought. Thank you."

"My pleasure, I enjoy sharing good food."

"Let me do the dishes please."

Ducky shook his head. "We'll clear the table and load the dishwasher, then I'd like to pick up our conversation where we left off."

"Oh, I…I think I was being melodramatic."

"Not so, you were being honest. Timothy, you took the first step, do you think you could go a little further?"

"Talking about this…it's not easy. I was raised to keep things inside."

"Ah…as Anthony would no doubt say, how is that working for you?"

Tim had the grace to look embarrassed. "Not so great right now…"

"Then shall we complete our chores and make ourselves comfortable in the sitting room? You can tell me some of what's on your mind."

"It…I'm just being stupid."

"I doubt that, we can all see you're troubled; your friends are very worried."

"I never meant…they have enough to deal with."

"They haven't just been discharged from hospital after being unconscious for two days. Don't be so hard on yourself and please don't keep things locked inside."

Ducky made a fresh pot of tea while Tim cleared the table and they were soon sitting in the easy chairs either side of the fireplace, the glow from the fire casting a warm light; Ducky hoped it was creating the sort of atmosphere where Tim would relax and let down his guard; he poured the tea and handed Tim a cup. "If it's not too painful, can you tell me what you meant, why them, who…?"

Tim stared into the fire for a full minute trying to unravel the maelstrom of thoughts into coherent words. "Where do I start? Seems like almost from my first year at NCIS people have been dying…Kate. She wasn't Ari's first target, did you know? He fired at me first…I always wondered, if he'd killed me, would he have been satisfied, left Kate alone?"

"I think Ari Haswari was a warped individual who would have killed every member of Jethro's team if he had the opportunity. Caitlyn's death was not your fault; if you apply that line of reasoning, how do you think Jethro and Tony feel, they were standing right beside her and could do nothing?" Ducky might just as well have remained silent, now the dam had been breached Tim was in full flow.

"What about Jim Nelson? Married two months, his whole life planned, and because we weren't on duty when we should have been he was killed. He was a good friend, and a twist of fate put him at the heart of an explosion. You saw him, broken, bloody."

It took a moment for Ducky to place the man Tim was talking about, had he really become so hardened to violent death that a young agent's death didn't linger in his memory, then it came to him. "Paula Cassidy, he was on her team?"

Tim nodded. "We were at FLETC together, God it seems like a lifetime ago…was for Jim."

"As you say, a terrible twist of fate, but the weight is not on your shoulders, if I remember correctly it was Jethro who requested the weekend rota change."

"Doesn't matter who asked, I should have been there."

"And so should Jethro, and Tony and Ziva…would you wish them all dead?"

"What? No! I would never…"

"But don't you see Timothy, each action, each decision has consequences? Jethro would never have altered the rota if he thought other agents would suffer such a fate. Life is unpredictable at best, the risks are magnified by working as an armed federal agent; you're all navigating a minefield and sometimes…"

"We step on a mine, but somehow I dodge them all, like Dearing's bomb. More death, critical injuries and I walked away. You were so sick, so far away; don't think we'd have got through it if we'd lost you."

"I'm tougher than I look, although I will admit, and I have never said this to a living soul. I was lying on the wet sand, waiting for the water to overwhelm me and I made my peace…I didn't want to go, but if my time had come…I was scared Timothy, terrified, and then I heard Jimmy calling my name, a sweeter sound I've never heard."

Tim raised his teacup. "Here's to you Ducky, and to Jimmy for finding you in time, we need you around, you're so easy to talk to."

"When I let you get a word in edgeways." Ducky was grinning and Tim smiled too.

"You're a wise man, it's always worth listening to what you have to say."

"Does that mean you'll listen when I tell you Caitlyn and Jim did not die because of something you did, or didn't do?"

"About them maybe, but the others, I know I could have saved them. Delilah's in a wheelchair for the rest of her life because I didn't do my job."

"Patently untrue! I know you all did your very best to catch Parsa before the attack on the Conrad."

"Not good enough, I wasn't even with her, I'd been by her side and then I stepped outside and…she almost died, if I'd stayed with her I could have shielded her, kept her safe. If I can't protect the woman I love how could I expect to be there for Ned…I left him alone Ducky; and he died, a horrible messy death, my fault."

"You cannot take responsibility for everyone, Parsa was to blame for Delilah's injury, not you, never you. As for young Ned, he was doing his job, as you all do every day. Remember without your timely warning enabling him to begin evacuating the hotel, had you stayed with him many more would have died."

"Consequences…"

"As you say…Ned's killers, Daniel Budd and his cohorts were caught, his mother had closure."

"But Gibbs…"

"Jethro is fully recovered and knows he has only himself to blame, he let down his guard and paid the price."

"Like Greg Baldwin, he lost concentration for one second and two children lost their dad."

"A real tragedy, but one which you must not take on your shoulders, you carry too much guilt already. Agent Baldwin made a mistake which proved to be fatal, the fact you were close by could have led to your own death, would it have been right for us all to blame Greg Baldwin?"

"No…it was an accident, he didn't see the wire."

"Precisely, and yet you are quick to carry the burden of other deaths, of Delilah's injuries upon yourself, Timothy, this can't go on, you must get help."

"I'm already getting it, thanks to you."

"This…this is a start, nothing more. You can talk to me any time, I hope you know that, but I really feel you should speak to a professional."

"Rachel?" Tim looked almost defeated.

"I think that would be a wonderful idea, when you're stronger and have a few nights of uninterrupted sleep."

With a slow nod Tim leaned forward, his eyes firmly focussed on Ducky. "You really meant what you said…I'm not to blame? For so long I thought…"

"I know, and you're wrong. You are no more to blame than Jethro was for Shannon and Kelly, or Tony and Ziva were for Jenny. Tony tried to save Paula Cassidy and failed, I…let's just say I've seen things I wish I could forget; we all learn to deal with such tragedies as best we can. Part of living is dealing with death, learning to accept life doesn't always go the way we would wish." Was he getting through? Ducky couldn't tell, what he could see was that Tim was exhausted; one last thing before they turned in for the night. "Timothy, on the bookshelf beside you, would you be so good as to reach for the Bible, on the middle shelf, the red leather binding, that's it."

Tim looked down at the handsome volume in his hands. "The King James, my grandparents had this version, Grandpa said he loved the poetry of the language."

"As do I, would you go to Ecclesiastes, chapter three?"

Tim turned the rich vellum pages carefully until he found the place, he couldn't resist as smile when he read the first line. "I remember this, haven't read it in a long time."

"Then would you humour me by reading it now, aloud if you would."

After a momentary hesitation Tim started to read. "'To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven. A time to be born, and a time to die…" He glanced up from the page, his eyes bright in the fire's glow.

"Oh Timothy, I'm so sorry, I didn't intend to cause you further distress."

"It's not…I was just…everything you've done for me, I must seem ungrateful, always whining, putting my feelings above others, you lost Maggie just a week ago and I've hogged the conversation, made everything about me."

"Maggie had a good life, as did my mother, I have said my farewells and they will be in my heart forever. You are here now, and you've been hurt, not only physically, your head injury was bad and could have been much worse, you survived that and you'll get stronger. When you do you can face what is to come, it will be so much easier if you accept help, none of us can get through life alone."

"'No man is an island,' except maybe Gibbs."

"Jethro's path is not one I would recommend, it has enabled him to deal with tragedy, yet has closed him off from so much that makes life worth living. Find the joy Timothy, with Delilah, with your friends, and when sadness enters your life as inevitably it will, you will have the strength to face whatever comes your way."

"'A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance,' it…it's life I guess. Donald Mallard, you're a good man, I…I was trying to deal with things alone, thought it would be for the best. Guess I forgot the people I care about, they care about me too."

Ducky stood up, gently took the Bible from Tim and patted him on the shoulder. "We do indeed, I want to thank you for taking me into your confidence, and rest assured what we have discussed will go no further."

"Thanks Ducky, but I think I'm done keeping things to myself. I'll set up an appointment with Rachel first and then I'm going to tell everyone what's been on my mind."

"I think that is a wonderful idea, but first, I think it's time for you to get some sleep; you've had a tough few days and a good night's sleep is the first step in Ducky's recovery programme. Off you go, and don't hesitate to call if you need anything, and I mean anything."

"I will Ducky, I promise, no more silence, good night and thank you."

Ducky watched him go upstairs, was it his imagination or was Tim already standing a little taller? Perhaps some of the weight was already falling from his shoulders, he hoped so; Tim had taken an important step tonight and Ducky knew his friends and family would give him what he needed most of all; a time to heal.

THE END


End file.
